


Triggers

by CottonClover



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Harry Needs a Hug, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Panic Attacks, Tom Is A Sweetheart, Triggers, maybe more tags if I continue this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 15:00:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13297335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CottonClover/pseuds/CottonClover
Summary: Everyone has triggers. Some people just have more than others.





	Triggers

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This piece deals with panic attacks and references child abuse, self-esteem problems, and self-harm.

Reaching,

 _Make it stop_.

 

Gripping,

_Make it stop._

 

Shaking,

_Make it stop._

 

Heart Hurts _,_

_Please stop._

 

Stinging,

_My fault._

Crying,

_No more._

Everything aching,

_Please no._

Lungs tight,

_Can’t breathe!_

 

Scratching, anywhere.

Scratching, everywhere.

_Make it stop. Make it stop! Make it STOP!_

Harsh pull.

 

Harsher Push.

 

Grabbed and forced into a small space. It was dark. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t move. Pain shot from every muscle every bone, feel it down to the soul. Flashes spun. A large man with hateful hands, a dark glint that promised pain. Do the cooking. Do the cleaning. Don’t be smart, but don’t draw attention. Be average. Be quiet. Don’t be strange. Don’t be a freak. Don’t do anything. Don’t breathe. Don’t exist.

 

 

 

* * *

 

“Harry?” Tom called out into the dark. No answer came. He had left for just a moment, but it had taken longer than he had thought. He knew Harry couldn’t be left alone for long, but it was his turn to cook dinner and it had taken longer than he had planned.

“Harry?” Tom called again, hoping for just a hint of where he was. Harry hid when he was alone. He didn’t like being out in the open. Tom knew he wouldn’t leave their room without him, but that didn’t stop the worry of what if he had. What had set him off this time? Had he seen something in the shadow of the tree outside that reminded him of his old home? Had someone played music too loud that reminded him of something?

“Harry, please?” He pleaded, not liking the soft hoarse tone his voice took in worry. But this time he heard a whimper. Daring to step away from the door frame, Tom slowly walked towards Harry’s bed. He took care not to make too much noise lest he potentially startle the other young man. Settling down onto his knees, Tom slipped his head under the bed skirt. It was Harry’s common hiding place.

This time the floorboards were bare, just an empty space under a creaky bed.

Tom repeated the process with his own bed, it was empty too. His pillow was missing. Tilting his head, he decided he’d think more on that later. Harry might have moved it, or know where it went.

Glancing around the room his eyes grabbed onto the small wardrobe that he and Harry shared. A queer thought made itself known, but it was doubtful that it would be able to fit the other teen inside of it as it barely held their own belongings.

It would be harder to be subtle when opening the door, Tom did not wish to startle Harry, but in this case, there was little choice. He quietly made his way to the wardrobe, gripped both handles in his palms.

He Pulled.

 

There in the dark was a small huddled mass, many of their clothes were either off or half hanging from their hooks. Harry was clutching to Tom’s pillow like a lifeline, in what little light came from the window, Tom could make out the tell-tale lines of scratch marks up and down Harry’s arms and legs as he sat in nothing, but his pants, stockings, and whichever clothing had fallen on top of him. His fingers where chewed up and scabbed, his lips bruised to the right. His hair was twisted upwards in different directions, Harry had taken to hair pulling as of late. Tear streaks were glistening down his cheeks as his glazed emerald eyes stared off into the distance at whatever his mind had locked him into. He didn’t even notice Tom standing above him.

Tom’s heart lurched at the sight. “Oh, Love.” Spindly, piano fingers gently reached out to brush the tears away from soft, tender cheeks. “It’s alright. I’m here now.” Tom shifted himself down the best that he could so that he could sit on the edge of the space that Harry had gotten himself into. He combed his fingers through inky black hair, while the fingers of his other hand gently reached out to rub soothing circles onto the exposed skin on Harry’s knee.

Glazed eyes slowly shifted over to Tom, as barely there breaths filled the quiet of the room.

“Hey there, Love. I made your favorite today. Treacle Tart.” Tom spoke softly with a small smile, “It is for dessert though, so I do have to insist that this time you eat a proper dinner beforehand.” The fingers on Harry’s knee stilled as he waited for a reply. Yet when the silence lingered, Tom cradled Harry’s cheeks with his hands and pressed his brow gently to the other’s. “It’s alright. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

Slowly, Harry began to uncurl as Tom held him close and whispered in his ear. “It’s alright, everything is going to be alright.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've kind of disappeared for a while. 
> 
> I mentioned in my other two pieces that I was injured a while back, but I also mentioned that I was ill.  
> I am a person who hates talking about themselves or admitting when something is wrong, but here it is. For me ill doesn't simply mean that I'm sick physically. I have clinical depression and an extreme anxiety disorder. I have panic attacks near daily and am on medication for it. I don't have these attacks to the extreme as some get them, but enough that they impact my daily life.
> 
> I often read other fanfiction writer's work to calm myself down from an attack, but today I just couldn't find the one I needed. So, hilariously enough. I wrote it. I wrote my way through my panic attack. So, the attack above (before the paragraphs begin), though choppy, and possibly unreadable to some, is a REAL panic attack. Not all panic attacks are the same. And people who experience them react in different ways to. This however was my way of dealing with this experience and using it to make something. 
> 
> I'm posting this only because, maybe it will be the fanfiction that someone else needs, the way I look for works that can help me. Who knows.
> 
> There isn't really a plot other than Harry has panic issues. Tom tries to help.  
> I'm not sure if I will continue this into something longer, though I have a few ideas for if I did.  
> Mainly that it would focus around Tom helping Harry through Panic attacks and exploring what a Trigger can mean to different people as not all triggers are the same, and no everyone reacts the same to those stimuli.
> 
> If, keyword is IF, I ever wrote for this again, what type of world would anyone like to see? Cannon? Time-travel? Non-magic AU? or any other suggestions are more than welcome.
> 
> Anyway, it's 4am for me now. So I'm going to see if I can finally sleep.  
> Thank you for reading, if you see this.


End file.
